


The Signal

by Doommonger22



Series: Successor [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doommonger22/pseuds/Doommonger22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for John Blake to make himself known to the people of Gotham in his new role. But first, there's someone he needs to talk to. Set post The Dark Knight Rises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Signal

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final part in the little one shot trilogy that I've been writing for Batman Begins/The Dark Knight. Unlike the other two, this story doesn't take place from Blake's point of view.

“Sir, you need to look at this!”

Commissioner Jim Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department sighed and looked up at the junior officer who was charging across the office towards him with a fistful of papers. Gordon groaned and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. He had enough paperwork on his desk already, without some newbie giving him a load more on the misconception that it was important.

The GCPD had recently tracked down the storehouse of a notorious drug dealing gang and in a co-ordinated move, stormed the building. Commissioner Gordon had personally overseen the attack, using a pincer movement to trap the drug dealers between three heavily armed S.W.A.T. teams before neutralising them. Sadly the operation had been of questionable success. The dealers had been jacked up and more than prepared to shoot their way out of the trap. It had been a messy affair – with five suspects and four GCPD officers shot dead, a further two officers hospitalised. To make things worse, the leader of the gang had somehow managed to escape the warehouse.

In short – the operation had been a complete disaster. The fact the leader, some illegal immigrant lowlife named Hernando Dregar, had escaped, made the entire assignment null and void, and the fact that the news of Dregar’s escape had been leaked to the press simply rubbed salt into the GCPD’s already gaping wounds. And through it all, the blame had somehow landed on Gordon’s shoulders. Gotham was the only place in the world where the blame rippled up the ranks rather than down them. He had a press conference the next day and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He was getting tired of having to cover his own ass with lies in order to preserve the department’s reputation. Gordon was up to his neck in paperwork from the botched assignment, and he hadn’t even started on his speech yet.

“Sir,” the officer’s voice was becoming irritating now. “You need to see this!” Gordon scowled and didn’t look up.

“Not now, kid. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork already and I need to write a speech for tomorrow that somehow covers up the fact the Dregar hit was a complete disaster. File your report with the others and I’ll look at it later.” He cast the briefest of glances up to confirm that, as predicted, the junior officer hadn’t listened and was still hovering nervously in front of the Commissioner’s desk. “Take the hint, kid,” Gordon growled, his patience wearing thin. “Go and bother someone else.”

“But, sir!” The officer was stubborn if nothing else, Gordon couldn’t deny that. “You have to see this! It’s him again!” Gordon looked up again and noticed the grainy CCTV image stapled to the front of the file the officer was thrusting in to his face. It got his attention. He looked up into the face of the junior officer.

“Pull up a chair, son, and tell me everything.”

X

Gordon sat on the roof of the police station, sipping a coffee as the ‘Bat Signal’ blazed its emblem in to the sky. It was the first time Gordon had used it since the Batman’s supposed death – he’d thought about it often enough but thinking about it had proved to be a lot easier than actually bringing himself to do it. There was still the niggling doubt that perhaps it hadn’t been Bruce Wayne himself who had repaired the searchlight, that maybe it was just one of the technicians from the department downstairs who’d thought they were doing the Commissioner a favour. But this particular case was different to the others. This was beyond the police’s capabilities.

It didn’t look like Wayne was going to show. The signal had been blazing for close to three hours now, and there had been no sign. The Good Samaritan technician theory was becoming more and more likely. Gordon sighed and moved over to the searchlight, ready to switch it off. It was time to stop playing superheroes and time to stop relying on other people to do his work for him.  It was time for the Gotham City Police Department to start laying down the down the law as they should have been doing, rather than relying on masked vigilantes to do it for them. For too long the GCPD had shied away from its responsibilities. Gordon intended to rectify that as soon as possible – he always had.

Flicking the switch to kill the power to the searchlight, Gordon turned around to find that he was no longer alone on the roof.

“You called?” said the masked figure stood in front of him, occupying a space that Gordon had walked through a mere second earlier. While most people would have been alarmed to find a masked man had just appeared out of nowhere, Gordon’s response was slightly less dramatic.

“You took your time,” he grunted.

“What can I say?” replied the figure. “The traffic was terrible.” Gordon allowed himself a smile, but it faded just as quickly. Whoever this vigilante was – they weren’t Batman. They weren’t the same build for a start, and the costume and voice were different. In fact, this newcomer’s voice sounded incredibly familiar, but Gordon couldn’t work out how he knew him. That didn’t matter though – someone had answered the call and from what Gordon had already witnessed, they seemed more than capable of the job in hand.

“We need your help,” said Gordon, getting straight down to business. The figure nodded.

“I’d guessed as much. What’s the problem?” Gordon passed the other man the file that the junior officer had given him.

“Some psychopath’s been hitting high profile targets. He hit a bank two weeks ago and he hit an armoured truck convoy last night. Both were efficient jobs, but they didn’t leave any witnesses. We’ve had fourteen fatalities as a result of his crimes.” The figure glanced from the file to the Commissioner and back again.

“The Joker?” he asked. Gordon shook his head.

“No, it’s not the same MO. Besides,” he paused and pointed to the photo on the front of the file. “That’s the guy.” The picture showed a man, hunched and mean-looking, stood in the back of an armoured truck, while two masked thugs emptied bags of cash out of it. Towards the back of the shot, another armoured truck lay on its side, burning. The figure inspected the picture.

“Who is he?”

“No idea. We’ve run his face through all the databases we’ve got and come up empty-handed. All we know is, he’s a hunchback who thinks he owns the streets of Gotham. He always goes round dressed in a suit and top hat – and we’ve never seen him without that stupid umbrella he’s carrying.” Gordon paused and chuckled. “Some of the lads have started calling him the Penguin. Apparently, he waddles.” The masked man smiled, ever so slightly.

“The Penguin, that’s cute. I’ll get right on to it.” There was a long pause, as each of the men expected the other to speak. Eventually, the Commissioner broke the silence.

“You’re not him.” The other figure shook his head.

“No I’m not. The Batman’s gone. I’m Gotham’s new hope.” The Commissioner raised an eyebrow.

“Gotham’s new hope, huh?” He looked the man up and down. “And who are you then? We’ve had bats. What’s next? Budgie Man?”The stranger smiled again.

“I prefer Nightwing.” Gordon nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to the searchlight.

“Well, if you’re not the Batman, we’re going to need a new…” He broke off abruptly as he turned back to Nightwing, only to find he was alone again on the rooftop. “God damn it,” he hissed, “when am I going to get a chance to do that?”

X

“Sir, sir!”

Commissioner Gordon groaned and rested his head on his desk. This was the fifth night he’d had to stay late – it seemed that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t overcome the ever-growing mountain of paperwork. And if he wasn’t very much mistaken, the voice that was shouting at him belonged to the same junior officer who had been annoying him five days ago. This he really didn’t need.

“What is it kid?” he yelled across the office, knowing full well that it wouldn’t work and the officer would still choose to reach the Commissioner’s desk before giving his news. As anticipated, four seconds later the officer literally skidded into Gordon’s desk and sent papers flying in all directions. Most of the senior police officers would have flown off the handle and yelled at the junior, but Gordon simply remained silently sat behind his desk, one eyebrow raised.

“You’d better have a very good explanation for this.” The officer looked like he was very close to dying of fright. He seemed about to say something, but the words had died in his throat. Gordon sighed. “Well?”

“It’s the… the… roof, sir.” Gordon rolled his eyes.

“What about the roof?” The officer flinched visibly when Gordon spoke, but to his credit he did manage a response.

“There’s someone on it,” he said, in a very small voice.

Gordon was up and running before the officer could add any more. There was only one person that would have any logical reason for being on the police station roof at this hour. And if it was that particular person, then Gordon could only hope that they’d brought good news.

He thundered up the fire escape, taking the steps three at a time. He burst out onto the roof without even slowing down, and almost barrelled into Nightwing, who was stood calmly waiting for him.

“Good evening, Commissioner.”

“Good evening, Nightwing.” The masked vigilante nodded in the direction of the searchlight.

“One penguin, as ordered.” The Commissioner followed Nightwing’s gaze and couldn’t help but smile.

Chained across the face of the searchlight, in a nice parallel to Carmine Falcone, was the mysterious crime lord known only as the Penguin. His arms had been tied above his head and his tailcoat draped from his frame, giving the silhouette the distinct impression of wings. His feet had been tied together and unconscious as he was, the Penguin’s head had been tilted to one side. Gordon looked up at the clouds. The Penguin’s elongated, almost beak-like nose, gave the silhouette a distinctly avian appearance. The Commissioner glanced across at the dark blue symbol on Nightwing’s chest plate. It was a good likeness. He was about to congratulate Nightwing, when the door to the roof was flung open and six more police officers appeared on the roof, clearly alerted by the same junior officer who had had spoken to Gordon. As he had anticipated, when he glanced back at where the vigilante had been stood, there was no one there.

“Cut him down,” he instructed. The officers seemed to hesitate for a moment and Gordon could tell there was something playing on their minds. Eventually, one of them plucked up the courage to speak.

“Is he back, sir? Is he really back?” Gordon smiled. Of course, most of these officers had been serving at the GCPD with him since this had all started. They’d all seen what Batman had done to Falcone originally. There were too many similarities between that incident and this one for him to deny it. Instead he just gave them a conspiratorial look. 

“The Batman isn’t back,” he said. The officers’ faces visibly. Gordon’s smile grew. “He can’t come ‘back’, because he never left.” The officers frowned.

“But he died, sir! We all saw it!”

“Did he? Come, come now Sergeant. You can’t merely _kill_ the Batman.” That seemed to appease them and they cut the Penguin down. It took all six of them to carry him off the roof, but they managed it eventually. As the door closed, Gordon let out a sigh.

“You can’t merely kill the Batman. Poetic.” The Commissioner didn’t bother turning around. He knew Nightwing was back.

“It seemed appropriate.”

“That it did.”

“Nice touch with the searchlight.” Gordon could sense the shrug, even though he couldn’t see it.

“You said we needed a new design for it.” There was a pause. “Well, you _almost_ said that.”

Gordon grinned.

“The emphasis must be placed on the ‘almost’.” There was a heavy silence. Gordon broke it eventually. “Well, if we have any more trouble, I know how to get hold of you.” The silence stretched on, and Gordon wondered if Nightwing had disappeared. He didn’t check though. He’d been on the receiving end of too many of these disappearing acts in his time. Just for once, he thought he’d prefer not to know.

“You know, I’m surprised.” Whatever Nightwing was surprised about, he wasn’t half as surprised as Gordon was that the vigilante was still there. Nightwing continued. “You haven’t asked me who I am.” Gordon chuckled.

“No I haven’t.”

“Don’t you care?” The chuckle became a laugh as Gordon turned to face the Batman’s successor.

“I care, Blake. It’s just I know it’s you.” He paused. “Tell me, how does it feel to plunge your hands in to the filth on someone else’s behalf?” The look on Blake’s face was absolutely priceless, and Gordon was still laughing as he entered the police station. He paused in the doorway, again not looking back to check if Nightwing had gone or not.

He didn’t really need to say it, but he felt he should anyway.

“Look after yourself, Blake. Gotham’s a big place and don’t forget what it did to Bruce. The legend might not die, but the man behind it can.”

“Do you want me to quit?” Gordon shook his head.

“No, son, I don’t want you to quit. I just want you to survive.” There was a very long silence. Then, finally, Blake spoke.

“Thank you, sir.”


End file.
